


Start Floating Away

by star_child



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_child/pseuds/star_child
Summary: getting slightly too drunk in the middle of the afternoon and slow dancing to dumb cheesy old music and kissing in a way that’s more laughter than actual kissing, mouths clumsy and hands gripping tight and sunlight slanting over them as they move lazily together.





	Start Floating Away

**Author's Note:**

> this is SO short but i wanted to post _something_ for kenma's bday so here we are

The school year starts in two days.

In two days, Kuroo will be returning for his third year, an officially declared pre-med focused on chemistry. He’ll be back on the ten-alarms-a-day grind, back to spending all his money on coffee and wasting so much time sitting in class that his fitbit will not stop yelling at him.

In two days, Kenma will be returning as a second year, moving on from general education courses to focus on what he plans to major in: visual development with a focus on backgrounds, specifically for video games. He fell in love with  _ Breath of the Wild _ , after all.

In two days they'll back to shouting homework frustrations at two in the morning, back to sneaking food out of dining halls and sleeping through lectures.

And they look forward to it, but that's all two days from now. Because today, they are officially the proud sub-leasers of a two bedroom apartment, sparsely decorated, oddly stained, and bursting with the potential to become home.

Kuroo’s mother, an avid music lover, bought them a radio from an antique shop as a housewarming gift. It’s small and square and despite Kuroo's love for antiques, he's not so good at figuring them out.

“Kenmaaaa,” he whines, throwing his head back so his voice will carry across the apartment, “I need heeeelp.”

The apartment is quiet until Kenma appears in the doorway, and Kuroo grins at the sight of him, soft and lazy in the late afternoon. “What is it?” he asks, though the way he's eying the radio between Kuroo’s legs on the kitchen floor says that he can take a guess.

“I think it needs batteries,” Kuroo pouts, tapping a nail against the plastic cover with a battery symbol on. It sounds hollow.

“I have some,” Kenma nods, turning from the kitchen to go back to their room. He returns a moment later with three AA batteries, hands them to Kuroo who fits them into place.

Kuroo cheers when the radio crackles to life, tuned to an old station that's more static than music. Sitting on the kitchen floor, the sunlight pours in from the window above the sink, painting the two of them gold. Kenma smiles.

“Look,” Kuroo says excitedly, hunching over the radio, “You can change the station!”

_ Of course you can, it's a radio, _ Kenma thinks but doesn't say, because the smile on Kuroo's face is more important to him than being a smartass.

Kuroo wrestles the station to one his mom always rotates through, classics from her youth, then stands to place it on the counter. “Sounds like home, huh?” he smiles gently as Kenma pushes himself to his feet. He nods. The soft smile on Kuroo’s face radiates light and gravity like the sun; Kenma finds himself helpless to the pull. He slides forward to find himself in Kuroo's arms before he knows what's happening.

Kuroo's fingers rest on his hips, just barely inching under his shirt to fit into the dimples on his back. Kenma reaches up to tangle his fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, thumbs fitting in the spaces behind his ears as easy as if they had been carved from the space at birth. Burying his face in Kenma's neck, Kuroo sighs, tickling.

“Dance with me, Kenma,” he breathes.

Kenma practically melts.

When his eyes open, peeking above Kuroo's shoulder to the counter behind him, he spots the empty cans and can't suppress a snort. “Were you drinking 4Locos in here alone?” he asks, eyes skimming over the writing. Two apple flavored, most likely empty, about twelve percent alcohol. Kuroo's favorite.

Kuroo’s mouth is buried in his collar bones, and when he mumbles, “Maybe,” his lips drag hot across Kenma’s skin.

“Got any peach?”

“In the fridge.”

Reluctant to pull away, Kenma keeps one hand on Kuroo’s shoulder as he leans to the left toward the fridge, swiping at the handle before giving up and walking over. He pulls out a tall can of peach, then tosses Kuroo another apple. They crack them open, touch them together.

“To another year,” Kenma says softly, a small smile tugging insistently at one corner of his lips.

Kuroo grins back, dopey and wide. “To you.”

Kenma’s cheeks burn, but he drinks to it.

Swaying as the third can of 4Loco enters his bloodstream, Kuroo laughs. “You’re supposed to toast to like, the best thing in your life right?”

“That’s right.”

Kuroo leans in close, closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together, arms wrapping around Kenma’s waist so he can feel the cold can through his shirt. He takes another chug of his own can before putting it on the counter, then reaches up to hold Kuroo’s neck. When Kuroo breathes it smells like green apples and alcohol, and Kenma thinks of dancing with him at parties, the same smell surrounding them. “I’d have nothing without you,” he whispers.

Sunlight fills their veins, and Kenma leans up to kiss him.


End file.
